


To Ease Your Pain

by Koibitotedare



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anon Prompt, Anxiety, M/M, Soulmate AU, good loving sweet victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 23:04:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11519367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koibitotedare/pseuds/Koibitotedare
Summary: Soulmarking was an event in almost everyone’s life.  It signaled that you had met, or at least come into contact, with a soul that was a near perfect match to your own.  Some matches were romantic, others centered around companionship, and some were a sign for a perfect rival.  At the tender age of 12, Yuuri had hoped his crush’s early presenting was a sign of a friendship centered soulmarking—as he was hopelessly infatuated with her but had experienced no pain whatsoever despite having contact with Yuuko several times.  Eventually he gives up on having any sort of soulmate at all.  Of course, as life would have it, that's just when he runs into his 5x gold medal awarded champion soulmate.





	To Ease Your Pain

**Author's Note:**

> A first for the Yuri! On Ice anon prompts left to me on my tumblr! I was really excited to write these so I hope you guys enjoy it!!  
> Want to send me more prompts? Visit me on my writing blog! Koi-ink.tumblr.com  
> as always a huge huge thank you to my beta for going over this with me! Check her out at inspiringanna.tumblr.com!

Before Yuuri had met Victor face to face, he hadn’t realized just how painful soulmarking could be.  Of course, he had heard plenty from Yuuko and Takeshi—who had been marked young—about the agony of physical separation and how the lines blurred into mental strife as well.  Yuuko described it as a sharp twisting in her gut that she had first mistaken for menstrual cramping.  When the bleeding never came they went to see a doctor who managed to pinpoint that she had been soulmarked.

                    Soulmarking was an event in almost everyone’s life.  It signaled that you had met, or at least come into contact, with a soul that was a near perfect match to your own.  Some matches were romantic, others centered around companionship, and some were a sign for a perfect rival.  At the tender age of 12, Yuuri had hoped his crush’s early presenting was a sign of a friendship centered soulmarking—as he was hopelessly infatuated with her but had experienced no pain whatsoever despite having contact with Yuuko several times.  

                    As it was, soulmarking as a child tended to be friendship or rival markings—most people didn’t soulmark until 18 anyway, when romantic experimenting was more commonly allowed; something that came as a relief to parents who knew how to stop the pain of a romantic soulmark.  Each marking had a different form of nurturing.  Rival markings satiated in head to head competition; some people said they could feel the itch fester under their skin the longer between competitions.  Friendship marks could simply be eased by spending time together, sometimes even a simple phone call cured the pain.  Romantic markings, however, were more troublesome.  It was a pain known to be the most trying and could affect a person both physically and mentally; it was most commonly satiated with some sort of romantic or sexual appeal.

                    Naturally the parents of 14 year old Yuuko wouldn’t want their child participating in any sort of sexual act until she was of proper age, which is why it was such a relief for the general populace that these types of marks were more common at or after ones 18th birthday.  Even then, a lot of couples confessed to driving the pain off with small touches and acts of romance with nightly cuddles before moving onto something as intimate as a sexual relationship—even if that meant shorter periods of being pain free.  There were, of course, others who chose to have sex right away, the relief from pain effectively driven off for years at a time.   

                    Young Yuuko hadn’t been given a chance when it was revealed that Takeshi had presented his mark at the same time and the nature had proven to be romantic.  Yuuri’s heart broke piece by piece as Yuuko’s grew with each brush of Takeshi’s hand against hers.  Oh, how Yuuri longed for that to be _his_ hand that she held, or his words that made such an easy smile brush over her face.  By the time they had both become of age and married, Yuuri was over his childhood crush.  When she became pregnant with the triplets, he finally allowed himself to look at others romantically.

Nothing ever came of his dates or relationships and one by one they would experience the pain of soulmarking without him.  One by one they would leave him when it became clear that Yuuri was not feeling the same pain and that they would have to search for their soulmarked match elsewhere.  Even if their mark _wasn’t_ romantic they wouldn’t come back, and he found that he preferred it that way as it was easier to focus on skating. Then, after just a year and a half, he stopped dating altogether.

When he was 21, Yuuri accepted the fact that he was a part of society that didn’t have a soulmatch.  So when he woke up the night after the Sochi banquet with the worst hangover he had ever experienced, he didn’t think anything of it.  When the pain persisted through the week and interfered with his skating he thought his horrible falls at the GPF had caused an injury.  Apparently Celestino thought so too and he was made to take a day off the ice to recover.  

However, without the distraction and comfort that skating provided him he found he paid more attention to his rising anxiety.  After his mandated rest he decided to go back to his roots and skate one of  Victor’s programs like he used to as a child.  It helped a little but he still decided to leave Detroit and go home to try and gather himself—to figure out what he was going to do with his skating career from there on.  Celestino was reluctant but gave in knowing he couldn’t force Yuuri to skate with him.

Perfecting _Stay With Me_ made him feel more like himself and far less anxious—dare he say the pain even felt duller, but it persisted for weeks.  Suspecting the injury was worse than both he or Celestino thought he decided to go see a doctor. When he was told that he had no physical injury he thought the doctor to be a bit daft.  He had so much pain, how could he _not_ be injured?  When the doctor followed up with him showing signs of being soulmarked—for quite some time—he was shell-shocked. Anyone could have triggered his soulmarking and unless he found them, it would only get worse.

It was only thanks to some clever questions from the doctor that led him to realize the pain and his increased anxiety had started after the GPF.  Which ultimately sucked because he could have been triggered by literally _anyone_ from _who knows_ what country.  He went home to have an anxiety attack in peace, only coaxed out by his sisters familiar drawl and embrace.

Oddly enough, only skating Victor's routines seemed to make him feel a little closer to normal; his anxiety somewhat tamed and sharp pains turned hazy easily moved to the back of his head.  When the legend himself showed up, Yuuri was already used to the additional pain in his feet.  It was only when Victor’s hands were gliding over his skin that the pain and anxiety simmered down—and really he should have realized what that meant then—but it was only after cup of china when he realized that Victor was his soulmatch.

He didn’t hurt the whole day after Victor kissed him.

It was after that when they started dating and the ring exchange in Barcelona made his limbs feel lighter than they had in months.  Post GPF had a serious discussion between the two of them about where they would go from there, which led them to their current situation; living together in Russia.

Their pain was shared, easing with each kiss, touch, and act of affection between them and blooming with their periods of separation from each other during their slotted competitions.  Most days, Yuuri’s feet felt as if they were on fire and being stabbed as they were unable to keep up with the actual physical wear he was putting on them from skating as well as the toll of the soulmarking with Victor.

However, the pain couldn’t compare with the crushing _guilt_ on his chest.  Each of Victors wobbly landings, flubbed jumps, and shaky step sequences were a direct result of Victor's agony.  Yuuri had the power to stop the pain, the ability to stop impeding upon Victor's return to the skating world—except Yuuri was selfish.  He couldn't find it in himself to push aside his uncertainties and anxieties to become sexually involved with Victor.  It just hadn’t felt right.  Like he was trying to rush it for the sake of being pain free and not because they loved each other.

The worst part was how Victor just accepted it.  He just smiled so lovingly at Yuuri and would cup the side of his face with a smooth, “ _then we wait until you’re ready,”_ on his lips.  A sweet kiss.  A gentle embrace.  It absolutely _killed_ him.  Every day he watched Victor skate, watched Yakov yell at him for his shaky free leg and his wobbly landings that were no doubt a result of his soulmarked pain.  He found himself wishing that Victor would at least resent him, even if just a little.  He knew the other skaters did.  Yakov did.  Like he knew Victor’s _fans_ did.  

A hand slipped over his where it rested on the rinks barrier, “Yu—ri~ You’re thinking too hard again,” Victor pouted at him.  Victor was bent at the knee and ducking his head just far enough that he could see Yuuri’s downturned face.  It felt surprisingly intimate.

He couldn’t manage more than a small, “Mmm.”  

Victor frowned at him and he reached his other hand up to smooth Yuuri’s bangs from his face, “Is the pain too much?”

Yuuri sighed softly and shook his head, eyes closing as Victor's fingers slide through his hair.  The gesture making his feet tingle less and soothing the edges of his anxiety.  He gripped Victor’s hand back on the barrier, rubbing his thumb over the other’s hand hoping he was doing at least a fraction of help that Victor tirelessly provided him with.  This time, Victor hummed thoughtfully before he turned his head to Yakov.

“Yakov!  Yuuri and I are taking a water break~” Victor yelled while moving to the exit of the rink after pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s hand.

Yakov only sighed like he was exhausted before waving a dismissive hand at Victor, “Five minutes.”

“Yes, yes,” Victor said flippantly as he stepped out of the rink and slipped his skate guards on, “five minutes for Yuuri and five minute for me!”

Yakov’s shoulders tensed like he was going to argue that no, it was five minutes for both, but his shoulders relaxed and another exhausted sigh slipped from his lips.  Instead he called out to Yurio to have the rink for running his FS.  

Yuuri reached out for Victor’s hand and they moved to sit down on the bench together, Yuuri’s back pressed against Victor’s chest.  He took a sip from his water bottle and relished in the easing of pain from his limbs.  Victor’s hands found their way into his hair and he tilted his chin up to get a better look at his fiancé.  Victor looked tired.  Exhaustion edged around the corners of his eyes, no doubt from coaching and competing.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you for your last competition,” Victor murmured his lips brushing against Yuuri’s forehead.

“It couldn’t be helped,” Yuuri replied automatically, “You can’t compete and coach me at the same time, in two different countries.”

He had only just come back from his last seeded competition the previous night and it seemed he hadn’t been the only one kept awake throughout the night by his overwhelming solitude.  He had placed bronze, not where he wanted to be but still good, and Victor had been proud but in the end they both were hurting and morning practice with Yakov had interrupted in their usual recovery routine of couch cuddles and soft foods.

“I’ll take good care of you tonight,” Victor promised.

Yuuri’s face felt warm and he let his hands fall overtop of Victor's thighs, “Don’t say it like that,” he mumbled through his embarrassment, “it sounds lewd.”

Victor laughed, a deep sound from his chest that had Yakov throwing him a glare and Mila flashing them a smile, “But you look so _cute_ with your face all red.”

Yuuri flicked his thigh.  

All too soon Yurio was striking his ending pose on the ice and as he skated over to Yakov they were given the _get back on the ice now_ glare from the coach.  Yuuri sighed as he sat up and away from Victor, their short time not nearly enough to drive away the pain but only to take the edge off.  Still he stood and offered a hand to Victor.

“Do you feel better?” He asked as Victor stood.

“I think,” Victor started with a soft smile, “that _I’m_ supposed to be asking that question.”  

“Should have been faster then,” Yuuri quipped and Victor pressed a hand over his heart and threw his head back.

“You _wound_ me Yuuri.”

“ _I’ll_ wound you if you don’t stop being gross!” Yurio called from the ice, his lip curled in disgust as he took in their linked hands.

Just like that Victor was off, teasing Yurio and pressing Yakov’s buttons before actually getting back on the ice, Yuuri following right behind him.  They were able to brush hands every once in awhile on the ice but mostly it was hard grueling practice that made the lines between pain caused by skating and pain caused by distance from Victor blur together and completely undo everything their short ‘water break’ had done.  

It was a blessing when they were finally cooling down and heading off the ice for the night.  Walking hand in hand home was almost more torture than being at the rink as their faces were under a constant attack by cold Russian winds and updrafts of snow.  The cold only made the pain in his feet prickle and itch—Victor’s hand doing little to soothe.

As if he could sense this, Victor pressed his cold lips against Yuuri’s ear in a chaste kiss, “We’ll be home soon.”

In a rare moment of boldness Yuuri followed up with a squeeze of his hand and a quiet, “Let’s take a bath together.”  

He thought Victor started walking a bit faster after that.

Victor's bath was only just big enough for them to squeeze into together, working only when Victor's wider frame was pressed against the back of the tub with Yuuri tucked between his legs.  The water was quick to warm his freezing skin but the cool sides of the tub were a stark contrast set on keeping him cold.  As always, attuned with his body, Victor moved to pull him closer, warming him and driving off pain with the same touch.  

He sighed into Victor's neck, bringing his own hands back to wrap around the mans waist.  Together they sat in the warm bath water, not moving or talking, simply enjoying the presence of the other.  However, when fatigue started to pull at Yuuri’s limbs he sat up and twisted to pushed his fingers through Victor’s damp hair, watching the other's expression as he did.  He seemed relaxed and his half-lidded foggy eyes seemed to suggest he was just as exhausted as Yuuri felt.

“We still need to make dinner,” Yuuri stated in the quiet of the bathroom.

“We can order in,” Victor commented while dragging his hands up Yuuri’s back, a wave of goosebumps following.

“We have leftovers,” Yuuri protested, eyes fluttering at the sensation.

“Mmm.”  

Yuuri gave his fiancé a pointed look before reaching behind his head for the shampoo Victor liked to use.  He lathered it between his hands and slowly massaged the frothy liquid into Victor's hair, being careful to not pull any strays out.  He let his hands slip down to the back of Victor’s neck after he was fully soapy and pulled him forward, just a bit, so their lips could press comfortably together.  

Victor's kisses were slow and full, pressing just _so_ against Yuuri’s lips as he too was led by Yuuri’s own soft touches and prompts.  Unhurried, languid, and relaxed.  A perfect de-stressing method from a hard day of practice and too much time spent apart.  As the pain in his feet and legs damped, Yuuri pressed a kiss to Victor's forehead, hoping their proximity was helping Victor’s own pains.

“How does your head feel?”  He asked softly.

“Better but…”

“Not quite right?” Yuuri asked with a quirk of his lips.

Victor smiled, “Not quite right.”  

An excuse to keep kissing.  An excuse for Victor to blindly grope for Yuuri’s own shampoo and to reach up, lathering Yuuri’s hair while their lips slid and pressed together.  A soft sigh slipped from Yuuri’s lips as Victor's thumbs circled at the base of his skull—where he carried tension.  Wanting to reciprocate, he grabbed a soft sponge and wet it before drizzling their favorite Russian body wash over the top of it, lathering it up with his thumbs before rubbing gentle circles over Victor's skin.

The moment felt almost too intimate, like they were giving themselves over completely and trusting that the other could take care of them.  Yuuri so desperately wanted Victor to know he _could_ take care of him; he could rub off any lingering sweat and grime and could also soothe his pain and give him comfort.  Just as Victor did for him.

When they were both fully lathered and soapy they stood, carefully, to rinse with the shower head.  The water was almost too warm but Yuuri ignored it, preferring instead to smooth his hands over Victor's shoulders and back, taking suds and dirt with them.  Victor pressed a warm kiss to his forehead and Yuuri took the hint, leaning his head back so the spray of water could catch the soapy locks for Victor to fully rinse.  

His fingers were thick and gentle on Yuuri’s scalp, scraping just firmly enough that Yuuri felt the last dregs of tension seep from his body and soft enough that his arms and neck broke out in gooseflesh. He let his eyes slip shut and he placed his hands on Victor’s bare hips for balance, humming softly in contentment.

A few strokes up and down the length of his spine followed by a small squeeze to the back of his neck had Yuuri cracking his eyes open and he smiled softly at his fiancé’s fond gaze. Blue eyes reflected absolute adoration and devotion, cute turtle lips curved upwards in a gentle smile, and the openness of his expression made Yuuri’s chest feel tight with emotion.  In this moment he wasn’t Victor Nikiforov 5 time gold champion.  He’s Victor Nikiforov, hopelessly and unashamedly head over heels in love and unguarded towards the infamously inconsistent skater Yuuri Katsuki; honestly how could one expect him to stop the hopeless grin that overcame his own lips.  How could one expect him to remain coldly impassive towards the man who was willingly pressing his heart into open hands?  Towards the man who he pressed his own fragile heart towards?

“I love you.” His voice, tender, reverberated  from the bathroom walls.  Victor's face jumped into surprise before an almost shy smile slid across his face. His thumb rubbed softly against Yuuri's neck.

“I love you too, Yuuri.”

The moment was promptly ruined by a frothy glob of shampoo sliding down Victor's forehead and oozing into his eye. Yuuri couldn't help the barked laugh that burst from his chest as Victor’s hands shot to his eyes, trying to rub the soap from them. Low whining broke Yuuri's laugh and he shifted forward, grasping Victor’s wrists and pulling them away from his face with one hand and using the other to press against the wide expanse of Victor’s forehead, prompting him to lean his head back.  

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor whined, reaching a hand out to try and find Yuuri’s shoulder, “it hurts!”

“I know, I know,” Yuuri chortled, “let me rinse you.” He dipped his shoulder so Victor could grab a hold of him to keep his balance.

Victor let out a petulant whine as he stomped his feet childishly, as if trying to dispel the pain by moving but instead sent bathwater splashing up over the side of the tub, “It's not funny,” he groaned.

“Stop doing that,” Yuuri reprimanded while flicking Victor's cheek, “you're going to fall.  Just let me help.”

“Hurry up,” Victor whimpered.

“Oh hush,” Yuuri chided while he reached for a washcloth outside of the bath before using it to gently wipe the soap from Victor’s eyes, “feel better?”

“ _No_ ,” Victor griped, his arms now crossed over his chest and lips out in a pout.

Yuuri hummed, his eyeroll completely unnoticed by his fiancé, “And pray tell why not?”

“You didn’t get it all.”

At first Yuuri really did buy the whiny tone and huffs of embarrassment as confirmation to the claim.  When he took a closer look, however, he realized—with a second eyeroll of affection—that Victor was referring to his soapy hair, still slicked back from his face.  Yuuri sighed, “If you wanted me to return the favor, all you had to do was ask.”

He pressed a wet kiss to Victor's cheek, cutting off anything he was going to whine out before turning his fiancé so his head was under the spray of the showerhead, careful to keep the water off of Victor’s face.  He ran his fingers through the mess, encouraging the soap to flow down with the water and grime from a day of sweat and hardships, adjusting the pressure of his fingernails by the different sighs from Victor.  He knew he had found the right pressure when arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him in to be flush against the other.  Yuuri pressed his chin into Victor’s shoulder and continued to gently shake out the shampoo.  

“We should get out,” Victor said after a moment of mutual silence.

Yuuri hummed in agreement but neither of them moved until a loud _crash_ sounded from the living room.

“...What was that…” Yuuri asked hesitantly, lifting his head to look at the closed door of the bathroom.

“Oh...no…”

“....Victor...what did you do?”

“I forgot, I left the snacks from Yura on the counter…”

“Makkachin?” Yuuri asked with a soft sigh.

“Makkachin.” Victor confirmed as he shut the water off and called out in a louder voice, “Makka!  Nyet! _Nyet_!!”

There was a scampering of heavy paws slipping on the hardwood floors before a slightly quieter _thump_ and more sliding of paws before unsettling silence.  Victor's sigh filled the bathroom as he grabbed a towel, patting himself down with it while he rushed out of the bathroom calling for his sneaky dog.  Yuuri sighed as well, grabbing a second towel from their shared rack and drying himself off fully.  He wrapped the cotton around his waist and squinted at the hallway where he could hear Victor ordering Makkachin to _drop it_ and _if you’re going to eat it anyway at least chew!_

He walked into their shared bedroom to see Victor, stark naked and towel thrown to the floor, balanced with one knee on the bed and one on the floor, fighting Makkachin for the goodies in his jaws.  Victor's fingers were slick with dog drool and firmly wedged in between Makkachin’s teeth, barely wrapped around the mauled piece of what used to be food.  Makkachin, well behaved enough to not bite down on Victor’s fingers, was simply whining and holding fast to the food.  

“ _Makkachin_!” Victor huffed again, “ _Nyet_!”  

Makkachin visibly flinched but did not release the stolen treat so Yuuri took pity on his poor fiancé and stepped just out of the doorway and away from Makkachin’s sight.  He hoped the dog still loved to greet him more than he loved stolen food.  He tightened his towel and stepped up to the front door opening it and closing it with a loud _thunk_ before shuffling some shoes around with his feet.

“Makka! I’m home~” He called, feeling foolish in his towel.  The feeling resided a bit when he heard Victor’s loud _oomf_ and the sound of Makkachin’s body weight hitting the ground.  He braced himself for impact when Makkachin came barreling around the corner, tongue hanging out and drool flying.  If only he hadn’t of _just_ showered.

He was taken to the ground in only seconds.  His towel off in just moments more as he was pinned down by one of Makkachin’s fluffy paws and his face licked near to death by that overly slobbery tongue.  He was breathless with laughter by the time that Victor appeared from their room, soggy pastry in hand.  Yuuri tried to push Makkachin’s head to the side but the dog only retaliated with more licking and a firmer pin on Yuuri’s shoulders with those big paws.

“Victor! Please,” he yelled, breathless and limbs weak from laughter, “ _help_.”

“Makkachin,” Victor taunted, shifting the dog’s attention as he held the ruined pastry over the trashcan.  The poodles ears perked up and Yuuri felt his breath forcibly whoosh from his lungs as the dog launched off of his chest and bound to Victor, who dropped the slobbery mess in the trash before it could ever be gobbled up, “ _Nyet_ ,” he reiterated to Makkachin’s drooped ears and confused whine.

Yuuri pushed himself up onto his elbows laughing at the blurred image of the downed dog.  He grabbed for his towel, wiping it over his face to rid himself of drool, but he would definitely be needing to wash his face before dinner.  When he pulled the towel back, Victor was standing in front of him, offering a hand.  He took it, allowing himself to be pulled up and kissed.  

“I think you broke Makka’s heart,” Yuuri murmured when he noticed the dog laid out on the kitchen floor whining softly at the garbage can.

“Makka will be fine,” Victor sighed, even though he looked torn between sticking to that and digging out the drool soaked pastry for the dog to enjoy.  

“You’re right,” Yuuri encouraged softly before pressing another kiss to Victor's cheek, “I need to wash my face and you need to get dressed.”

“Or we could stay like this,” Victor said with an eyebrow waggle.  Yuuri raised one of his in rebuttal.

“You want to risk eating hot food...naked?”

“Ahh...maybe not,” Victor conceded.

“Mmhumm,” Yuuri hummed knowingly.

They were quick to wash faces and dress, hating that their time for being together had been interrupted but neither one able to hold a grudge against Makkachin, the dog was too cute for that.  They ended up spoiling the sulking animal with bits of carrots from their reheated meals as they cuddled on the couch, the TV playing something in the background.   

Victor was warm against his side and he let his head fall to lean on the other’s shoulder.  Victor wove one of his calves in with Yuuri’s legs as they ate, mumbling some of the more important translations from the show as it went on.  Yuuri could honestly say he wasn’t paying attention to the show.  He was far more focused on the way that Victor breathed beside him.  The way that his heart was sure and steady in his chest and made the small remains of Yuuri’s buzzing anxiety flatten out into the lightest hum, easy enough to be forgotten if he focused.  

He hadn’t realized he was nodding off—a side effect from Victor’s comforting presence—until his grip on his plate went lax and the remainder of his food tumbled to the floor where it was gobbled up by Makkachin.  His small _sorry_ was caught in his throat, sleep making his muscles lazy and uncooperative.  His hand only twitched in a piss-poor attempt at pulling the plate back onto his lap but it hardly mattered when Victor slid it from his grasp and kissed the top of his head.

“Let’s go to bed, Yuuri.”

“Mmm.”  He was grateful that Victor sounded just as tired as he felt.  

“Come on now, I won’t carry you, you know,” Victor teased around a yawn as he poked Yuuri’s nose.  Yuuri managed a weak puff of doubtful air from his nostrils.  Victor _would_ carry him to bed, history had proven that to be true.  His empty threats didn’t mean anything anymore and besides, he was so comfortable here.

“ _Yu~uri_ wake up~”

“ _I am awake_ ,” he mumbled thickly eyes struggling to open into a glare.

“If you’re going to talk in Japanese then you aren’t awake at all,” Victor huffed amused, his basic understanding of Japanese just barely proficient enough to help him understand what had garbled out.

Embarrassment made his cheeks warm and Yuuri slid his eyes open to mere slits.  Victor's expression was blurred without his glasses but he could make out enough to tell that the other man was exhausted.  Actually opening his eyes half way felt like a fight with his own body, but it was _so_ worth it for the way that Victor smiled at him and leaned in to press his nose against Yuuri’s.

“There you are~,” He sang softly before teasing him with an equally soft, “Good morning.”

“Good _night_ ,” Yuuri corrected back, his voice barely filtering over the still running TV program.

“Not yet,” Victor chided, “C’mon.”  

He pulled Yuuri up by his arms laughing at the resulting groan that had caused, but he let Yuuri collapse against his chest.  Then when Yuuri cuddled up to him, he humored him with an arm around his waist and helped him avoid a weaving Makkachin on their way to the bedroom.  He sat Yuuri on the bed, not allowing him to lie down until he was changed since he knew it would result in him falling asleep before anything productive could be done.  Yuuri understood, he hadn’t even brushed his teeth and he knew it wouldn’t be happening tonight.

“I’ll grab your sweats.”  A soft kiss was pressed to his temple.  

Yuuri knew he should let him grab his sleeping pants.  Should let him move away and finish out the few necessities he had to do before crawling into bed for the night so they could cuddle for a solid 6 hours at the least.  He just couldn’t find it in himself to let Victor separate from him and with a knee jerk reaction to Victor walking away from him, Yuuri snagged his fiancé’s hand and pressed it to his forehead.

“Don’t…” Yuuri mumbled, words failing him as emotion welled in his chest.  

“Yuuri?” Victor took a step closer and his expression and voice turned teasing, “Are you saying you want to forgo sleeping clothes?”

Overwhelming emotion swelled to heavy guilt and settled in his chest—because _no he didn’t._  His own reluctance only served to remind him of how much he was hurting Victor as he couldn’t provide enough intimate contact to satiate their soulbond for months. Instead, he only continued to dish out a meager few days or hours of relief with his subpar cuddles.  He clutched Victor’s hand tighter in his own and pressed his forehead to Victor’s knuckles, shaking the smallest _no_ against them.  He heard Victor’s knees pop as he knelt down to be at Yuuri’s eye level.  

“ _Moyà lyubov,_ talk to me,” Victor prompted while brushing Yuuri’s bangs from his eyes, “what is going on in that head of yours, hm?”

Yuuri shook his head against Victor's knuckles again, “I'm sorry.”

Victor shushed him quietly, his hand leaving Yuuri's bangs to rest against the side of his face, “You have nothing to apologize for... _I_ was the one who left food out for Makkachin to get at anyway.” His voice turned teasing and Yuuri couldn't help but crack a smile.

“That's not what—you _know_ that's not what I meant,” he tried to sound petulant but Victor had come so far since cup of China. He was very quickly learning how to deal with Yuuri's unexpected bouts of anxiety and he sounded far more amused than he actually felt.

“I _don't_ know,” Victor admitted softly, his thumb moving gently over Yuuri's cheek, “teach me?”

Yuuri knew how these conversations went. He would tell Victor about his endless guilt at not being comfortable enough with his own self to further the boundaries of their relationship.  Victor would smile and assure him that it didn't matter. He would argue back a point, made only logical by his anxiety, and Victor would tear it apart with his reality based logic, leaving Yuuri to feel embarrassed and frustrated. Victor would give more reassurances and press kisses into his skin, tell him not to worry about it, but he would always boomerang right back around and worry about it.

“I just...didn't want you to leave.”  It was easier to talk about his impulsive action rather than the heavy emotions sinking his chest in.

“I'm not going anywhere,” Victor assured, “but I think you'll be more comfortable in your sleeping clothes so how about we go together?”  

“Yeah.”

Still, it took him a moment to work up the courage to pull Victor's hand away from his forehead and he couldn't bring himself to look his fiancé in the eye. He had a feeling Victor would know exactly what was running through his mind if he did—if he didn't already know.

He kept a hold of Victor's hand as they crossed the room to grab their sleeping clothes, Yuuri hesitating again as he had to let go to allow them both to change. He was unable to express his gratitude towards Victor for letting him take his time to let go, even if that meant they were awkwardly standing in the middle of the room for a few minutes, holding hands.

He felt cold and achy without Victor's touch and while logically he knew that it was a result of his anxiety, he couldn't help but think the pain was coming back because he wasn't giving enough. Which led him to believe that Victor was still suffering, still in pain despite the touches and loving caresses they shared. He changed faster than usual, leeching onto Victor's whole arm as soon as he was able, burying his face in the bicep he was clutching.

Victor led him back to bed, his tired limbs collapsing at the slightest prompt and he clung—too much he knew—to Victor, making it far more difficult to get under the covers and comfortable than it should have been. For his credit, Victor didn't complain, he only nudged Yuuri with soft touches and prompts until they were curled up together under the comfort of their sheets.

“Don't fall asleep yet,” Victor cautioned his voice soft as he pushed his fingers through Yuuri's bangs, “just talk to me when you're ready.”

“I'm sorry,” Yuuri said again and before Victor could talk he continued, “are you still hurting?” He let the pad of his thumb slide across Victor's forehead as it furled.

“I haven’t been for awhile,” Victor assured, “is that what this is about?”

“I know, you must be sick of it but I can't help thinking that I should be giving you so much more than I am.”

“Yuuri,” Victor breathed, his hand coming up to trail lightly along his jaw, “you’ve already given me so much.”

“No, no I-” Yuuri sucked in a breath before he forgot to breathe altogether, “-I’m not giving you enough.  You’re still hurting on the ice and it’ll be all my fault if you can’t perform your best for this comeback year.  I just- _we_ should... _I_ should…”

“Yuuri.  Look at me.”

His eyes jerked instantly to Victor’s face.  His eyes softened in understanding and his lips smoothed over in patience.  He was too good to Yuuri.  Far too good.  Even before Victor opened his mouth to assure him of his own thoughts, Yuuri knew it was going to be indulgent on Yuuri’s behalf.  He would sacrifice anything, even his comeback, for the sake of Yuuri’s mental health and it _killed_ him.  

“There will never be a day when I _don’t_ hurt on the ice.  That isn’t because of you or our soul bond, the sport simply doesn’t allow for such a thing as _pain free_.”  Victor said firmly and Yuuri logically knew that he was correct but...still.

“More pain than you should be in then…” Yuuri huffed.

“You give me so much, _Moyà lyubov_.  You give me time like tonight, where just holding your hand makes my head feel lighter.  Seeing your smile even, makes the pain ease.  Each touch.” Victor pressed the tip of his finger against Yuuri’s nose, “Each laugh.” He smeared the pad of his thumb across Yuuri’s lower lip, “Every kiss,”  he tapped his pointer and middle finger against Yuuri’s slightly parted lips, “Makes me feel lighter.”

“You deserve more,” Yuuri whispered.

“We cuddled on the couch for two hours,” Victor teased.

“You _know_ what I mean!” Yuuri snapped and Victor pressed his thumb against the line of Yuuri’s cheekbone.

“I will only take it when you are ready to give, just as you do for me,” Victor said firmly, “Only when you are comfortable.”

“I _am_ comfortable!” Yuuri challenged even though he was certain Victor could sniff out his half truth with ease.  The whole truth of it was he _wanted_ to but he had fears, he had doubts, and he _wasn’t_ ready but he felt like he _had_ to be, “We could do it now and I wouldn’t regret it!  I want to…. _you_ need to.   _We_ need to—”

“—We could never have sex and I would still be the happiest man alive.”

Yuuri felt the air gush from his lungs.  Of all the things for Victor to say he had never expected that.  He pressed his lips tight together and fought the prickle of salty tears building in his eyes.  How could Victor be so good to him?  Love him so fully and so patiently?

“You would be in so much pain,” Yuuri’s voice was tight and he strained to keep his emotions from overflowing.

“It would be worth it,” Victor assured with a soft kiss to his forehead, “I would suffer all the pain in the world, if it meant I got to keep you by my side.”

It was too much.  He felt his tears breach the rim of his eye and burn down his cheeks.  He didn’t deserve this man.  He doubted he ever could.  Raw emotion made his breath stutter out of his chest as a hard sob press from his throat, “You’re too good to me,” he struggled to make the words come out even but they stubbornly shook and pressed high in pitch.

Victor chuckled and pulled him closer, tucking Yuuri’s head under his chin, “That, is my line, my little piggy.”

“Impossible.”

“Never,” Victor gasped sounding vaguely appalled, “trust me.  I am already very, _very_ satisfied with us.”

Yuuri wiggled in closer, breathing in the clean scent of his fiancé.  He wrapped his arms tight around Victor trying to share as much of their body heat as possible.  Trusting Victor was something easy for him.  He trusted Victor with Yuuri’s skating career as his coach, as his lover, and he could trust Victor’s voiced thoughts on his own feelings.  Trust came easily but the doubt always nudged its way in through every anxiety fueled overthinking of their conversations or over analyzing their actions towards each other.  So this time he would just have to try harder to take things for what they _were_ and not what they _seemed_.  

Victor said he was satisfied, so Yuuri was going to believe him.  Even if Yuuri himself _wasn’t_ satisfied, he wasn’t ready to take the next step either.  So instead he did what he knew and buried himself in his fiancé.  Smothered him with small peppered kisses across his chest, rubbed circles on his back with his thumbs, and tangled their legs together.  Sighed out in pleasure when Victor returned the embrace just as tightly and hummed in content with the slow up and down motion of Victor's fingers over his hip.

Just when he was starting to get groggy with sleep and post anxiety fueled exhaustion, he grinned against Victor’s chest.  Sharing warm moments like this together reminded him of how close they had come.  Of how it had started as a means to ease pain but now that seemed to be a mere side benefit, for now they shared time together because they genuinely enjoyed it.  In his sleep groggy mind he realized if he could spend the rest of everyday curled up in Victor’s embrace, he would be happy.  

Elated even.  

Perhaps that was what Victor meant when he said Yuuri had already given him enough.  

He sighed softly through his nose and nudged his chin up just a little, “For the record, you can’t be the happiest man alive because I’m already fulfilling that position,” he murmured into Victor’s collarbone.

Victor laughed against him, body shaking with it as he pressed a kiss against Yuuri’s hair, “Of course, my apologies.”

“As long as you understand,” Yuuri teased quietly.  He felt Victor smile against the crown of his head.

“The second happiest then,” Victor murmured back.

“Goodnight, Vitya.”

“Goodnight, _Moyà lyubov.”_


End file.
